


Tell It Like It Is

by mad_martha



Series: Auror [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-21
Updated: 2011-08-21
Packaged: 2017-10-22 21:54:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/242972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mad_martha/pseuds/mad_martha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron gets some advice from an unusual quarter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell It Like It Is

**Author's Note:**

> This occurs during the summer holiday before Ron and Harry's seventh year at Hogwarts. Ron's had a series of rows with Harry, Hermione and his parents, and has stormed out of the house.
> 
> One of the problems with the 'Auror' universe is that I set up all sorts of rules about wizard life in it to suit myself. Consequently, you need to know the following before you read this story: At age 17 a member of the wizarding community can use magic outside of school, learn to drive a Muggle car or motorbike and fly a broom in public (within normal wizard legislation on concealment). At 18 he or she can apply for an Apparition licence, drink, have sex, be legally employed, and leave the parental household. At 21 they can get married, vote and stand for public office.

"You should tell him."

"What?"

Ron only half glanced over his shoulder, as if not looking fully at the speaker would somehow make the situation less real. He didn't know the other man's name. He didn't _want_ to know it. He continued to put his clothes on, wishing he dared Apparate home instead of looking for the nearest public Floo point.

"This Harry of yours," the man said calmly, and Ron froze in horror. "You should tell him how you feel."

"I don't know what you're talking about - "

"You called me Harry," was the dryly amused reply.

Ron reluctantly turned to look at the man fully. Drank in once again the dark messy hair, green eyes and pale skin. The only thing missing was the glasses.

And the scar, of course.

One dark brow lifted at him, but there was no mockery or anger, only mild curiosity. The resemblance wasn't really that great, not least because this man was in his mid-twenties or older, but several hours earlier the alcohol haze had been enough that Ron had easily been able to ignore the differences. Long enough to work off some of his frustration by getting laid, anyway.

But when the man spoke, his deeper voice shattered what remained of the fragile illusion.

"You know, I might not have been enough of a wizard to go to Hogwarts, but I _am_ still a wizard." The brow arched a little higher, and the eyes travelled over Ron's bright hair idly. "I could make a few guesses, if I wanted to."

Ron shrugged, quelling the lump of ice that formed in his stomach. "What - you're planning to tell on me? Go ahead, things couldn't get much worse at this point."

"They could. I don't know what's going on in your life that would make you get drunk and screw a complete stranger, but I could tell you were still at school from the way you acted at the bar. Trust me, you don't want to find out what happens when the MLEs catch you. They aren't like the Muggle police, handing out 'cautions' - they'll fine your parents, notify your school, make you undergo a medical exam at St. Mungo's, and keep checking up on you for the next twelve months. No more trips to Hogsmeade, and loss of all other privileges until you leave school."

The man sat up against the headboard of the bed and watched the play of emotions on Ron's face. Then he shrugged. "But I'm not going to tell anyone."

"Did that happen to you?" Ron asked, trying to sound casual around the sudden, deeper lurch in his stomach. He hadn't realised the penalties; even Fred and George had never gone this far.

But the man shook his head. "Not me. A friend of mine." He continued to study the redhead for a moment or two, before saying, "Like I said - I'm not going to tell anyone. So why don't you tell me what's going on?"

Ron snorted. "Yeah, right. Now you're my counsellor?"

"You have someone else you can talk to about this?"

He paused in the middle of pulling on his t-shirt. If Bill had been at home, maybe .... But Bill wasn't at home, he was hundreds of miles away, and this wasn't exactly something he wanted to put in a letter. For a moment his mind skittered over Hermione as well, but it would be a cold day in hell before he confided in her, after the things she'd said to him.

"No," he admitted, in a small voice. "I don't."

"So talk to me. Who's Harry?"

Actually, the man already knew; that had been the easiest part to work out. There weren't many redheaded families in Wizard Britain, which meant this kid was almost certainly a Weasley. Add in someone named Harry - wow, _that_ was a hard one to work out. In fact, he had already made a mental note to warn the boy against ever doing something like this again with a complete stranger. He could all too easily put The Boy Who Lived in mortal danger - and himself too, although he didn't seem to care too much about that at the moment.

"Harry's my best mate," Ron was saying sullenly. " _Was_ ," he corrected himself bitterly, after a moment.

"Why 'was'?"

A lift of one shoulder. "We haven't been getting on so well lately." Then the thin veneer of indifference cracked, letting a not-so-indifferent sneer through. "I guess the _girlfriend_ is more fun than the _best friend_ these days! The _best friend_ might just get in the way of the big romance."

Ron reined himself in with an effort, wrestled the indifferent mask back into place, and went back to putting his socks on, not seeing the tiny, sympathetic smile that flashed across the man's face.

"Got a girlfriend, has he?"

To his credit, Ron managed a laugh. "Yeah! Older woman too - she's just left school."

"But that's not what really pisses you off, is it?" The man cocked his head, studying Ron thoughtfully.

Ron paused for a second. "No," he admitted, and the bitterness was back. "He said they'd finished - broken up just before the end of term. But when he came to stay with us, his - a member of his family - told my dad he'd caught them screwing over the holiday. They laughed about it .... He never told me."

The man wondered if Ron had given his friend a chance to tell him, but wasn't sure how to ask. "Has he done that before?" he asked finally.

"I don't know, do I? He doesn't tell me." Ron found his jeans and stood up to pull them on. "Funny, I thought the whole point of being best friends was to tell each other everything, but I guess I was wrong."

"Are you going to tell him about this?"

Ron gave him an old-fashioned look. "Yeah, right! You've got to be kidding."

The man shrugged, a little amused. "Tit for tat. You haven't told him you think you're gay, either, have you? Seems to me you can't say much about him not telling you things, if there are things you're keeping from him."

"But how the hell am I supposed to tell him something like _this_?" Suddenly Ron looked more like a frightened, defensive teenager than he had all evening - even more so than when he'd been forced to admit to this man that he was a virgin.

"I don't know. You know him, and I don't - how do you think he'll react?"

Ron looked blank. He had no idea how Harry would react.

"Is he the kind to go off the deep end?" The man paused and sighed. "Look, you go to a boarding school. You share dormitories with other boys. You must have encountered at least _talk_ of something like this before. How does he react to it?"

"Embarrassed, mostly."

Now that he thought about it, Ron realised that Harry had never been the kind to snigger or make smutty jokes about anything. He would gossip occasionally about which blokes were seeing which girls, and have a brief laugh when anyone was caught out doing something they shouldn't, but he never _started_ conversations like that. And he usually tried to change the subject pretty quickly. Harry was really quite a reserved person, and he said as much to his listener.

"Doesn't sound like he'd kick up a huge fuss then."

"But ... he might never speak to me again." And now Ron sounded desperate.

"Doesn't sound like you're getting very far now," the man pointed out. "How long do you think you can go on like this? Look - this is something I know about. You can either tell him, and chance him taking it really badly, or you can carry on like you are now and almost certainly lose him as a friend. Don't look at me like that! You're what - seventeen? I'm telling you, if you think it won't happen that way you're fooling yourself. You look like the honest type to me - I'm willing to bet you'll walk away rather than keep lying to both of you. You're keeping a huge secret about yourself from him, and sooner or later it'll get to be too much for you."

There was a pause, then Ron bent to pick up his trainers. He sat on the edge of the bed to put them on, and there was a long silence as he tied the laces. When he finally stood up again, they looked at each other. The man sighed.

"You should tell him. Once it's done, it's _done_ and you won't have it hanging over you anymore. And then at least then you'll know, one way or the other."

But looking at Ron, he could tell that he was unconvinced. And since he had long ago given up wasting his time on lost causes (like his own family and friends), he shrugged inwardly and let it go.

"There's a Floo point in the lobby. You can grab a pinch of my powder out of the jar on the shelf and use it, if you like. It'll save you having to find the nearest wizard pub."

"Thanks," Ron muttered and he picked up his robe, slipping into it.

"And if you ever get the urge to do this again? I go to that bar every Friday night - I'm a regular."

Ron nodded, skittishly avoiding looking the man in the eyes, and quickly left.

xXx

Harry tensed as he heard the jangle of the Floo, and glanced sideways at Percy's old clock. Nearly two o'clock in the morning. His tension increased.

Voices. Angry, raised voices.

Ron had stormed out of the house over five hours ago, and although the rest of the family and Harry had been sent to bed promptly at eleven, Molly and Arthur Weasley had waited up. Not that Harry had been able to sleep and nor, he suspected, had Hermione or Ginny. Hard to say about the twins but they hadn't seemed too concerned about the earlier quarrel or Ron's reaction; but then, they thrived on tension and excitement.

Now Mrs. Weasley was yelling. Harry winced. They had to be in the study or the entire house would have been able to make out every word.

Sullen replies; Ron was clearly in no better humour.

A door slammed and footsteps came running up the stairs. Harry heard Ginny's door open and a second pair of feet followed Ron up the stairs to the attic: Hermione, who never knew when to leave well alone. In spite of himself, Harry crept out of bed and opened his door a crack. Since Percy was away from home, he was using his room for the summer - which was probably a good thing, as he and Ron might just well have killed each other by now had they been forced to share a room.

Ear to the crack, he heard Hermione say something to Ron in a low voice. The response, as Harry expected, was loud and uncompromisingly angry.

" _No!_ What business of yours is it anyway? Just piss off, will you, and stop poking your nose in where it doesn't belong!" And the attic door slammed shut.

It was a very flushed and angry Hermione who came hurrying back down the stairs. Ginny had evidently been waiting for her, for Harry heard a whispered "Where has he been?"

Hermione whispered in return, "I don't know - you heard him!"

Their door shut tight behind her.

Harry carefully shut his own door again and went back to bed, not knowing what to think. Seconds later, the door cracked open again to admit the twins on tiptoed feet. The pair of them were convulsed with silent laughter as they shot across the room and fetched up on the end of his bed.

"Did you hear that?" whispered George. "He's been out on a bender!"

"Drunk!" added Fred delightedly.

"No!" But Harry wasn't so very surprised, really. Where else could Ron have been? Although what pub around here would sell a lanky seventeen year old alcohol?

"That's not all," George continued. "Did you hear Mum?"

"Furious," Fred said. "Said he's been with a girl! Mind you - "

" - He looked shagged silly when he came up the stairs," finished George. "Nasty poke in the eye for Hermione. Let's hope she didn't hear or work it out for herself."

Harry could only agree with that sentiment although privately he didn't hold out much hope. Hermione had eyes like an x-ray machine.

Then Mr. and Mrs. Weasley came up the stairs. Harry tensed, hearing one pair of footsteps stop outside his room.

"I want everyone back in their own rooms in _five minutes_ , or there'll be trouble," Molly's voice said dangerously. The footsteps continued onwards.

Fred grimaced at his twin. "Better go."

"Yeah," George agreed. "Don't see why we should take anything that should be coming to Ron."

They both nodded to Harry and were gone as quickly and quietly as they arrived. Harry flopped back against his pillows and stared up at the ceiling in the dark.

Where on earth had Ron been? Had he really been with a girl somewhere? What girl, anyway? Was that why he'd broken up with Hermione - because there was someone else? But that didn't fit his behaviour before their fight, and the break-up seemed to be all on her side in any case. But maybe that was what caused it. Or maybe Ron was trying to make a point to Hermione, in which case Harry felt seriously pissed off because he wouldn't have expected that kind of crass behaviour towards her from Ron even in his worst moments.

But ... Ron? And a girl? A girl that wasn't Hermione? He didn't know why, but for some reason that upset Harry even more than the rest. And it _wasn't_ because he felt bad for Hermione.

He just didn't understand what was happening with Ron. And he wished more than anything that they were still on speaking terms, so at least he could talk to him about it. Or not talk, if Ron didn't want to talk, but at least be friends again.

But he couldn't help feeling that if they'd still been friends, none of this would have happened anyway.


End file.
